


Surrender

by hiddlemethis24 (myliege_theelvenking)



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Thor (Movies)
Genre: Dom/sub, Incest, M/M, Riding Crops
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-09
Updated: 2016-03-09
Packaged: 2018-05-25 15:50:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,055
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6201421
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/myliege_theelvenking/pseuds/hiddlemethis24
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Loki needs and Thor needs and this is the only way they can need each other. It isn't much, but it is all that Loki will allow.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Surrender

**Author's Note:**

> This surprised me in that it asked to be written in Thor's point of view, but I think it ends up more powerful that way. As always, Loki will never give Thor everything he wants, but somehow Thor finds a way to exist on what little he is given. Bless him.
> 
> This hasn't been edited or beta'd in any fashion, not even basic proofreading, to be perfectly honest, so hopefully there aren't any blatant errors. If there are, I sincerely apologize. Thank you for reading!

“Unburden me.”

Two words, spoken in such a quiet tone to be almost a whisper, barely given breath. There is the hint of a tremor within his voice that speaks of tension and desperation. One could miss it if they were not paying attention. But just to speak these words took an immense sacrifice, a blow to Loki’s pride that made this not a demand, not a request, but a plea.

If he makes him speak the words twice, he will leave. That much is clear in the brightness of his eyes that shines like glass about to shatter if just an ounce more pressure is applied.

Loki has always had the problem of feeling too much. Where Thor has the ease of forgiving and forgetting, his anger rising terribly but disappearing as quickly as it came, his brother allows it to build and weigh upon his soul. His mind becomes so heavily-poisoned with resentment that he can no longer withstand the pain.

Thor learned long ago how to relieve Loki’s burdens.

“Remove your clothing.” His voice is only a breath louder than Loki’s own, the authority resonating within his tone. He has no need to shout or demean for his orders to be followed. There is an immediate relaxing of the tight creases in the mage’s face as he steps inside and begins to strip. It makes Thor ache to know how far he had pushed himself before allowing himself to come.

Thor’s posture becomes straighter and more composed as he separates himself from Thor, Loki’s brother, to become Thor, Loki’s Master. A gesture is all it takes for Loki to slide to his knees, eyes closed and head hanging so that his long raven hair forms a soft curtain around his face to obscure his features. Momentarily Thor’s fingers twitch to stroke through those tresses, but he knows Loki will not stand for it. Even if Thor is by all appearances in charge now, his brother will disappear and become even more lost than he is now.

“You have waited too long,” he admonishes, and there is an answering shudder in Loki’s body. A moment ago he would have sneered in his face and promptly turned on his heel, but behind these doors he has given all of himself to Thor. There is an inherent concern in those words but he is careful to keep it concealed beneath disapproval. Loki never responded well to sentiment, shying away like a frightened wild animal.

“You know that I must punish you.” He knows the tensing of Loki’s shoulders is only theatrical, as he needs the rough handling more than anything else Thor will give to him. Even more than the quiet commands, he needs to feel a physical pain to echo his mental anguish.

Thor watched Loki for a moment longer, allowing the silence to build suspense until his flanks heaved with laboring breaths, and finally he turned away from the trickster to retrieve a riding crop he had made specifically for their meetings, though he’d told the craftsmen he’d acquired a new steed that required a firm hand. it wasn’t entirely a lie.

Loki is waiting for the crop to fall and Thor takes his time in closing the distance between them again. His boots fall ominously across the floor until finally he rains down the leather tip with a loud thwack. Red blossoms almost immediately to Loki’s bare buttocks and the silver tongue is loosened from its closely-guarded knot to release a startled cry. It will be the only cry he wrenches from that throat today, and he always cherishes that sound before Loki bites the others off. He could order him to loose his tongue, but it will only cause more trouble that it is worth.

Thor’s arm comes down again, slightly harder. The first blow is always a surprise and it does not take much strength to earn Loki’s sweet voice. But he will always work to gain it with every one thereafter, even if he knows he will never have it.

Every blow causes the pale expanse of flesh to tense and then quiver, but Thor sees the gradual release of muscles as pain turns to pleasure. Loki needs this. He has trained his body to this masochistic need to earn everything pleasant through suffering, but Thor has been through enough battles to know how adrenaline rises to counteract the pain. It is the process taking place in his brother’s body now, endorphins flooding his mind to create a euphoric high. It is the only way Loki will allow himself to feel happy.

So he continues, each sharp _thwap_ of the crop growing louder and the tremors growing more pronounced until it is an endless shiver. Once Thor had stopped and bent to tend to Loki only for him to cry out as if he had been grievously wounded. He needs this. He cannot unravel himself.

There is a moment when he always worries that he will press too far, when it seems that Loki will not break, but then he is struggling to suck air into his lungs and all of the tension gives way in one instant. Thor allows Loki a moment before carefully bending beside him. He sets the crop on the marble floor and gathers his brother in his arms. He is boneless, his body gleaming with sweat, and his eyes are glazed and half-lidded. His head falls gently upon Thor’s shoulder as he is carried to the large bed and it is the closest he will ever come to seeing him docile.

Loki won’t thank him, not verbally. But as Thor settles in behind him, curling an arm around his waist and pressing himself to Loki’s back, he feels a set of slender fingers settle upon his arm and he knows it as an expression of gratitude. He doesn’t even dare to smile, as if even that unseen gesture will send Loki fluttering away from him right now even when he is unfit to be anywhere else. So he allows his eyes to close in absolute silence.

He wakes with his arms just as empty as they always are, with no indication that Loki was ever here save for the stray strands of raven hair upon his pillow.

It is enough. It has to be.


End file.
